


Asking for Help

by IdolDaydreams



Series: 50 Prompts Personal Challenge [2]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autism, Autistic Character, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdolDaydreams/pseuds/IdolDaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An autistic Taekwoon is having trouble adjusting to idol life. Although Hakyeon and the other members want to be supportive, they struggle to understand him. Without you, among his biggest sources of support, Taekwoon is crumbling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prompt

In the middle of a lazy day, you sit on the couch. Your laptop in your lap, you check your various social media accounts. You liked a few friends’ photos, but overall, nothing is happening. With your stomach beginning to rumble, you think about ordering in before your phone lights up on the cushion beside you. It’s a video call from Hakyeon. Your eyes widen. An uneasy feeling settles where hunger used to be. VIXX is supposed to be filming all day. You snatch your phone up and accept the call.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” Hakyeon greets. He’s trying to be warm and friendly, but you see the concern written on his face. “Can you talk?”

Something must have happened. Your mind races, making you hesitate. “Yeah. What’s wrong?”

Hakyeon’s lips purse. “Taekwoonie keeps trying to walk off set. I tried to get him to tell me what happened, but he won’t speak. The crew is really confused. We don’t know what to do.”

The uneasy feeling dissipates. Instead, your heart grows heavy. You feel your expression change to match Hakyeon’s. “Is he still there? Can you let me talk to him?” When he nods and starts making his way over, you add, “Let him use his ear buds.”

After a bit of rustling and a click, the sound changes, becomes concentrated. Taekwoon comes into view with ear buds in. Under bright lights and in full makeup, he seems even less himself. He looks at you stone-faced with the exception of big, glassy eyes. Even if he could speak, you wouldn’t need to ask. He’s terrified.

“Hi, jagiya,” you say, keeping your voice soft. You smile through your worry. “I heard you’re having a hard time.”

As expected, Taekwoon says nothing. He stares at you, seems to focus on every little detail on your face, to block everything else out.

Slow and patient, you ask him simple questions: if he’s eaten, if he’s had his coffee, if he’s tired or anxious or scared. He responds by nodding or shaking his head. In this way, he tells you he’s tired. He’s overwhelmed. He needs to take a break. Your assumptions are confirmed. You ask him to give the phone back to Hakyeon, assuring him you’ll only be a minute.

Hakyeon comes back after a few seconds, and the ear buds are passed to him as well. “What did you find out?”

“He needs a break. Take him out of there and let him call me on his phone. He can’t do anything until he calms down.”

You can see him want to protest. He starts to open his mouth, but you interrupt him.

“I understand. I know you have a schedule to keep, but he physically cannot do it.”

Hakyeon nods. “I trust you. I’m sorry. Just wait a few minutes.” He thanks you for your help and ends the call. You can only imagine the chaos in trying to stop the production. You don’t envy him.

Another video call pops up after several minutes. This time, as promised, it’s from Taekwoon’s phone. You breathe a sigh of half relief and accept the call.

Taekwoon sits in the van. Thankfully, there’s no background noise. No one is crowding him. Wherever the van is parked, it seems to be in the shade - dark enough not to overstimulate him. You watch him as he licks his lips, avoids your gaze. He makes a typing motion with his free hand, then a message alert pops up at the bottom of your screen. You open it.

He simply writes, _I’m sorry_.

“Jagi, no,” you reassure him. “You did nothing wrong.”

Taekwoon bites the inside of his cheek. Tears well in his eyes. _We had an interview and there were so many questions. I couldn’t remember the script._   _It was embarrassing._ When you don’t respond, he continues to write. _They were mad because the camera makes me feel… uncomfortable. We had to shoot my answers more than once. One guy asked what was wrong with me._

The first tear falls in a wet stripe down his cheek. _What’s wrong with me?_

You bite your lip to keep from crying right along with him. You manage to collect yourself. “There’s nothing wrong with you. They just don’t understand, so they get frustrated. It’s not your fault.”

He starts crying so hard you’re amazed he can read through his tears. His makeup begins to melt in streaks. _Why can’t I tell them? I want to talk to you so bad, but I can’t. I open my mouth and nothing comes out.’_

“But you are talking to me. I can read your messages, right? That’s the same thing.”

Taekwoon concedes a nod. _I wish you were here._

“Come over when you finish,” you reply. “I don’t care how late it is. For now, would it be okay to just talk for a while? You tell me when you feel okay to go back.”

Another nod. He finds a tissue to wipe his eyes. _Thank you. I love you._

You distract him for nearly an hour. The two of you talk about everything except the work he has to do, and you promise to send him a bunch of cute animals the moment you hang up. Slowly, his face becomes animated again. It starts with small twitches at the corners of his lips. Slowly, he forms his first grin. Eventually, his words return. They come from him so soft that at first you doubt hearing them. “They’ll have to redo my makeup. I look like a mess.”

You beam a smile at him. “Yeah, but a handsome mess.”  
  
Taekwoon smiles in return and bites his bottom lip, suppressing a laugh.


	2. A Quiet Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nearly melting down at a schedule, Taekwoon really needs to see you. He takes you up on your offer to come over regardless of the hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extension to the prompt requested by an anon on Tumblr.

You get an “I’m here” text at nearly two in the morning. You’ve long since changed into your pajamas, and you would be tired it you weren’t already buzzing with fear. Leaving your phone on your nightstand, you go to the door and open it. Taekwoon stands there in all black, bare-faced and haggard. Every muscle in his face seems heavy. Still, he manages to grin at you.

“Hey. I was wondering when you would show up,” you say as you step aside. He walks in, steps out of his shoes at the door. When he doesn’t respond by the time you turn the lock behind you, the fearful buzzing threatens to tighten your chest. “Taekwoonie, can you talk?” You turn to face him, watch his expression.

After a moment, he nods. “I’m okay. I’m just really tired.” His mouth seems to labor around the words, like his brain somehow forgot the sounds to use. Absently he begins to toy with the prayer beads around his wrist. He spins them around, presses his palm to them and kneads them into his skin. He alternates between the actions, soothing himself.

“I don’t blame you. It was a rough day,” you reply. Something like relief washes over you. “Are you hungry? Or do you just want to come to bed?” He’s already shaking his head before you start your second question. You thought you would know the answer.

You lead him into the bedroom. The sheets and blankets are already tossled, lived in and waiting for him. You lie down in the middle of the bed, watch Taekwoon strip down to his loose t-shirt and looser sweatpants. He has a change of clothes in your room, but maybe it’s too much effort. Maybe he likes the feeling better.

On typical, if infrequent, nights alone, you’re the one snuggling into him. Now, he curls into your side, rests his head against your chest. His arm hangs limp across your waist. You pull the covers over both of you, all the way to his shoulders. The warmth and contact alone is enough to make your eyelids heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon says for likely more than the second time that day. “Everyone went home late because of me.”

Gently you shush him, rake your fingernails over his scalp. “You couldn’t help it. Now you’re here with me.”

“I don’t like scripts.” Slowly he traces careless shapes over your side with his  fingers. “Why can’t I just be me?”

“I don’t know. I like you the way you are.”

A long pause passes between you. “I don’t think I want to talk anymore. It’s too hard. Is that okay?”

For a second your hand stops on his scalp. You huff out a chuckle. “Of course. Just let me know how you feel when we get up tomorrow.”

Taekwoon nods against your chest and goes quiet. For as long as your sleepy brain allows, you listen to his breathing. It evens and slows quickly, and his hand goes still. Soon after, your own becomes too heavy to keep up. Your eyes close, and you drift off.


End file.
